When Passed My Friend and Left Me Standing Bleakly
by dhauren
Summary: Being a hero is never easy, and sometimes the hero needs to be saved. Captain America squares off against the Winter Soldier, and an unexpected revelation shakes the very foundation of his new life.
1. Chapter 1

The idea for this story just ate my brain after seeing the Captain America trailer. Some of this is jumpy, but I really like the idea of it, and just didn't have the time or patience to polish it better. This is loosely based on the Captain America trailer, but also weaves in the Avengers and Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Darcy and Steve are already established.

This story is followed directly by To Soothe the Savage Beast, which tells Darcy's part of this story. s/9834456/1/To-Soothe-the-Savage-Beast

For those readers still waiting for an update on Will You Go Out With My Big, Green Alter-Ego…I haven't abandoned it. But Chapter 18 just hates me, and I hate it, and until we find some kind of common ground, it's ns ot going to be shared.

Don't own it. Any mistakes are my own.

* * *

Steve Rogers didn't consider Nick Fury to be his friend. He didn't even really like or respect the man just based on the manipulations and lies the S.H.I.E.L.D director had already spun his way. But that didn't mean that an assassination attempt on Fury's life could go unanswered. The fact that the unknown assassin was bold enough to make his move in broad daylight required an immediate and unflinching response from Captain America.

Natasha was an unexpected source of immediate information. There was something off about the redhead, something Steve couldn't immediately pinpoint, but he couldn't spare the time for investigation right now.

"What do you know?" he asked her.

Natasha stared stonily at the display screen on the wall behind him. "They call him the Winter Soldier. He is…enhanced. I suspect they used a subpar variation of the super soldier serum. He is…cold. Ruthless. Relentless. A programmed killing machine."

"Programmed?" Steve was quick to ask. "It's a machine?"

The redheaded S.H.I.E.L.D agent blinked, and turned her head to focus her emotionless attention on him. "He's a man. But he's been conditioned to be an unreasoning killer. He does what he is ordered to do."

Steve continued to suit up. The shaky video of the assassination attempt was running on a loop on the display screen on the wall. The assassin's actions were highly disturbing. He stepped very calmly into a street, right into the path of Fury's oncoming vehicle, and fired his weapon. The explosive device skipped off the road and planted itself on the bottom of the SUV, blowing it over onto its roof. The assassin calmly stepped to one side, the vehicle missing him by inches. Had Fury not been traveling with a full escort of S.H.I.E.L.D agent, he would likely be dead now.

"How good is he?" he asked.

Natasha Romanoff's direct gaze was disconcerting on the best of days, and right now it sent a sucker punch to Steve's stomach. "At least as good as I am, maybe better. He was one of my trainers."

Steve's head snapped up. Ah. That explained the feeling he'd had that something was off about her. "Are you…okay…with this?"

She rarely showed emotion, and he'd never seen her look rattled, not even in the middle of the Chitauri invasion, but Steve could see she was a little twitchy right now. "No Cap, I'm not. He is a weakness of mine, and I don't have many of those. I was taught to eliminate weaknesses, but him…I couldn't. I don't trust myself around him, because there are so many strong emotions tied up in my interactions with him." Natasha lowered her stare to the floor. "You'll try to bring him in. I don't think you'll be able to. I think you'll have to kill him. And I'm not sure how I really feel about that."

Steve pulled on a glove. "We need to find out who's controlling him. He has valuable intel. I _will_ bring him in."

He watched the redhead's hands clench into fists. "You'll try, Cap. Don't be surprised if it doesn't work."

The first attempt to bring in the Winter Soldier did not go well. Steve was flown into the city block where the assassin was holed up, with numerous S.H.I.E.L.D agents holding a perimeter to prevent his escape. It seemed the assassin had another agenda, because as soon as Captain America made his appearance, the Winter Soldier came out of hiding and launched a vicious attack.

The mask that hid the man's face also helped to cloak his intentions. Steve couldn't anticipate his attacks, and the assassin's speed was challenging. He was barely able to fend off the Winter Soldier's knife slashes, and the assassin showed no signs of tiring.

A hail of bullets broke up their little battle. The assassin dove to one side, coming to his feet smoothly behind a parked car, one arm raised, index finger pointing in accusation. Steve turned his head to see Natasha, guns in hands, face twisted in some kind of wrenching emotion. She had a clear shot at the Winter Soldier, but did not take it.

The assassin stared at her for a moment, finger still pointing at the redhead, then he whipped an explosive disk into the ground between himself and the others. Steve reacted instantly, pulling Natasha back, and holding his shield up to protect them both. The explosion was stronger than anticipated though, and blew both of them backwards.

Steve picked himself up, ears ringing, and watched in disgust as the assassin made his escape, easily cutting his way through the S.H.I.E.L.D perimeter. The Winter Soldier had wanted a confrontation, he realized. Taunting them with how easily he could destroy them.

Natasha was unconscious, lying crumpled beside the building she had been tossed into. Steve knelt to check her pulse, reassured when he felt her heart's strong beat. He scooped up the redhead and carried her out of the blast zone. A S.H.I.E.L.D medic hurried forward to check on the unconscious Black Widow.

Steve wasn't expecting to be ambushed when he finally returned home after a lengthy debriefing. He pushed open his apartment door and had only seconds to react as something launched itself at him.

"Are you okay?"

He allowed Darcy to wrap herself around him, sinking into the comfort of her arms, burying his face into her hair. "I'm fine," he assured.

She fisted her hands into his shirt. "I watched, on TV. He's strong, whoever he is. And fast. He's not normal."

"No," Steve agreed, voice muffled. He tightened his arms around her. "He wanted to fight me. It was a setup."

"Why?" his girl asked, pressing her face into his chest.

That was the real question, wasn't it? "I don't know," he admitted heavily. "But whatever the reason, this has just begun."

The Winter Soldier struck again a week later. Steve was with Natasha at one of the regional S.H.I.E.L.D offices, going over a ton of intel that Clint had sent from his current mission. The Hawk was currently the bodyguard of a bored arms dealer's mistress. Apparently, she liked men with strong arms, and had a penchant for pillow talk, so Clint had an overabundance of inside information.

Agent Sitwell, who had stepped into the shoes left vacant by Coulson's death, was ready to pull Hawkeye and send S.H.I.E.L.D in to take the arms dealer into custody. Clint believed there was more intel to be had, and Natasha agreed with her partner. Steve didn't have strong feelings either way, but trusted Clint and Natasha more than Sitwell, who wasn't quite capable of filling Coulson's shoes.

The discussion was becoming heated when Sitwell dropped to the floor with a yell. Natasha reacted instantly, guns drawn as she dropped into a crouch, eyes scanning the whole office. Steve saw it at the same time as she did – the spider-webbed bullet hole in the nearest window. That was all they had time before the window shattered inward, and a black clad body followed.

Steve barely had time to reassure himself that Sitwell had a clean gunshot wound in the shoulder before he was swinging into action, diving forward to catch the knife strike meant for Natasha on his shield. For one brief second he met the intensely cold eyes of the assassin, rimmed in shadowed skin above his black mask. The depth of madness in those eyes was chilling.

Then reinforcements were pouring into the room. Steve yanked his head out of way of a particularly nasty knife slash, and watched the assassin jump back out the window he had come in, and race across the roof in a diagonal line toward the edge.

"No!" he decided. Shield held in front of him, he broke through a window on the other side of the office, tumbling in a smooth roll and popping up to his feet.

The Winter Soldier was right at the edge of the roof, about to escape again, and Steve hurled his shield to knock the assassin off his feet. Instead, the man turned, impossibly fast, and caught the shield, staring coldly over its surface. His eyes flicked down to look at the shield, and he blinked several times, shook his head as if clearing it, then spun the shield back toward Steve and stepped off the roof.

Steve caught the shield and tucked it under one arm as he sprinted to the roof's edge. The black clad figure was gone, with heads still turned at his passing.

* * *

"He's toying with us, with me," Steve told Darcy later that night, after the debriefing. Sitwell had been pissed, and was snapping off orders even as his shoulder was being patched. Word down the line said that Maria Hill was coming to take charge of the manhunt, and Clint had been recalled. There was even rumor of a super-secret S.H.I.E.L.D specialist team being assigned to hunt down the Winter Soldier. When Steve asked about it, Sitwell grew tight lipped and wouldn't say any more.

He closed his eyes as Darcy massaged the knots from his back, straddling his waist as he lay on his stomach on the floor. She had a real talent for soothing sore muscles, and quieting all the negative emotions in his head.

"Why?" she asked softly. "Do you know him?"

Steve opened his mouth to answer, closed it and thought about it. "There's something familiar about his eyes. I don't know, Darcy. How could I know him? I was frozen for 70 years, and I haven't really had too many incursions since I got thawed out that weren't alien or super-powered. But…" Steve paused, thinking about the last moments on the rooftop. The Winter Soldier had almost seemed confused for a moment, as if the shield reminded him of something. "I don't know."

He felt the press of her lips against the back of his neck. "You'll figure it out, Steve. And you'll bring this guy down."

"I need to," he agreed. "Whenever he appears, Natasha freezes. She hasn't been able to act against him, not even to save herself. That's more alarming than anything else that's happened."

Darcy pressed into his back and gave him a squeeze. "Let me take your mind off of it for a while," she offered.

And she did.

* * *

Two days after the S.H.I.E.L.D attack, Steve was called in by a somewhat frantic Sitwell. Apparently, there was a situation at the regional office.

Clint had returned, Steve could see as soon as he arrived on site. The archer stood beside Natasha, muscles taut and ready for action. Hill had also arrived. She stood between the two Avenger agents, and a group of people standing outside of a large black plane. Sitwell, arm in a cast, stood beside Hill, looking rapidly between the agents, and the other group.

Steve walked right into the tension, placing himself beside the man and woman who'd fought beside him during the Chitauri invasion. "What's the problem?" he asked softly.

Clint twitched, hands on his bow, hawk gaze fixed on something just over Hill's shoulder. "I don't like to be on the wrong end of a scam job, Cap. And we," he indicated the three of them with a wave, "were scammed good." He turned his glare on Hill. "Was it amusing? Payback for trying to kill you while under Loki's control?"

Maria Hill seemed to deflate a little at his words. "Barton, it was necessary at the time."

Steve watched the bow lift a few inches. "I get that, Maria. But that was almost two years ago."

"Two years of unnecessary guilt!" Natasha snarled. She had her guns trained on the senior agent.

Steve was at a loss. Two years ago dated back to the Chitauri invasion. "What's this about?" he tried in his best Captain voice, trying to pull attention from the tension of the situation, whatever it might be.

Hill glanced behind her, and deflated even more. She seemed about to say something, but just shook her head and stepped to one side.

Steve felt like he'd been punched, again. He stared at the dead man standing in front of the plane and tasted the bitter bile of betrayal. No wonder Clint and Natasha were ready to explode. Especially Clint. The archer had harbored feelings of guilt for two years. It was his actions in freeing Loki from confinement on the helicarrier that had led to the death of his senior officer. Or, so he had thought.

"Captain," Agent Coulson greeted. "I'm sorry that we allowed the deception to go on this long."

Steve swallowed hard. "You know what? Make sure I'm there when Stark finds out. I might be able to keep him from killing Fury." Things clicked in his head suddenly. "You're the specialist team?"

Coulson nodded. "My team has…unique…talents. We might be able to help track down the Winter Soldier." He glanced at Natasha, but looked away. "You'll need all the help you can get with this one."

Steve nodded, swallowing hard again. "Agreed. He's been one or two steps ahead of us since this all started, and he likes toying with us. We need to bring him in and find out his agenda."

Coulson glanced to his right, where a young woman with long dark hair stood, arms crossed as if not impressed at all. "Skye already knows his agenda. That's one of the reasons why we were tapped to help."

Natasha took a step toward the younger woman. Hill and Sitwell immediately shifted to block her advance, and the tension doubled.

"We don't have time for that now," Coulson snapped, though it wasn't clear who he was talking to. "Skye?"

The young woman flinched a little, but then took a deep breath. "His orders are coming from someone named Zola? He's targeting you, Captain."

Steve shook his head, old memories welling up inside him. "That's impossible. Zola is long dead."

The girl shrugged. "Well, whoever is giving the orders is using that name. Pretty vindictive agenda, too. He wants you demoralized and off balance before killed, and S.H.I.E.L.D in crumbled pieces."

At Steve's side, Clint relaxed slightly. "So, business as usual then. Nat and I have your back, Cap. Can't promise much about the rest of the agency. Don't know who to trust anymore."

Steve watched Coulson flinch with that statement. "We have a common cause right now, Agent Barton. Find and detain the Winter Soldier. Find out who's calling the shots."

Clint snorted. "Notice that 'keep Cap from getting killed' isn't on that list."

Coulson ducked his head. "The captain is more than capable of taking care of himself." He turned to the girl Skye again. "Anything else you found?"

She shrugged. "Just something about sending the Soldier after bait? Something the captain couldn't resist?"

Natasha's gasp behind him told Steve that they were probably thinking the same thing. He pulled his phone from his pocket, fingers clumsy in haste as he hit speed dial #1 for Darcy. When she answered on the second ring, relief hit him like a brick.

"Hey you!" she greeted perkily. "What's going on?"

"Where are you?" he asked tersely.

"Hello to you too, handsome. I'm at the Tower with Jane. Stark is a complete head case, did you know that?"

Steve heard Stark's protest in the background, and had to grin, albeit tightly. "Yeah, I know that. Listen, I need you to stay in the Tower until I come for you, okay?"

"Is everything okay, Steve?"

He looked around at the S.H.I.E.L.D agents surrounding him, and wondered if they could keep her safe. "Not really. Let me talk to Stark, Darcy."

He didn't really want to talk to Stark. Not really. But he'd make cozy with Loki if it meant keeping Darcy safe. Right now, Stark was his best chance at that.

"What's up, Capsicle?"

Steve gritted his teeth. It was an automatic reaction to Stark's voice. "Tony. Is Banner there?"

"Yeah? What's going on, Cap? Something to do with that metal arm freak that tried to take out Fury?"

"There's a good chance he'll try to take Darcy, to draw me out. Can you lock down the Tower tight enough to keep him out?"

Stark made a pffing noise over the phone. "Of course I can. Banner as backup?"

"That's what I was hoping for." Steve took a deep breath. "Clint and Natasha are here with me. We're going after him. There's a lot of shit that went down today, Stark, and you're not gonna like it, but I really need your focus to be on keeping Darcy safe right now. Can I count on you for that?"

"Oh Capsicle, you wound me. Of course I will. Jarvis is already on it. No one comes in, and Darcy doesn't go out."

Steve almost grinned, almost, when he heard Darcy's protest in the background. "Thank you. Put Darcy back on, please."

"What's going on?" she snapped at him. "Why is Stark locking me up in the Tower?"

Steve didn't want her to be scared, but he didn't want her in danger, either. "There's a really good chance that the Winter Soldier has orders to grab you, to lure me out. I need to be able to focus on finding him and the ones giving the orders, and I can't do that if I'm worried about you. Stay in the Tower, Darcy. I need you to be safe."

"Oh." Her voice was so small over the phone, and Steve could just picture her wide-eyed expression. "Okay. Just…get this done quick, okay?"

"I plan on it. I'll see you soon."

Hill raised an eyebrow as Steve pocketed his phone. "You're trusting _Stark_ to keep your girlfriend safe?"

Steve gave her a bit of his Captain stare. "It's like Hawkeye said. Don't know who I can trust in this agency. But I do trust Tony Stark, even if I don't like him that much. He'll keep Darcy safe."

Not surprisingly, Coulson took charge of the effort to find the Winter Soldier. He began barking out orders, and for a minute or two, both Hill and Sitwell looked like they were going to protest, but then they just shrugged and went with it.

Coulson's team was a strange mishmash of talent, but they worked well together. Not that Steve would have expected anything less. He could see that it hurt Natasha and Clint. Not only had they been kept out of the loop about Coulson's survival, but now they had to watch him orchestrating a new team of people, when he used to do that with them.

Steve felt next to useless while the S.H.I.E.L.D agents did their magic, and paced anxiously. He was used to action, and this new world of doing everything with computers still confused him.

Clint felt the same way. He waited for action, perched on top of a filing cabinet that put him in his favorite position – high and distant. If his eyes frequently narrowed when watching Coulson' team at work, Steve pretended not to notice. The captain could only imagine the level of betrayal Clint and Natasha felt.

Unlike Clint, Natasha could not be still and wait. She paced in an opposite pattern to Steve's pacing, never ranging far from Clint's high perch. She didn't appear to be watching the others work, and seemed to be completely inside herself, but Steve knew that if he asked her, she could tell him exactly what was going on.

Stark called twice to advise that the Tower's defense system had been activated, and an infiltration attempt thwarted. He sounded almost gleeful as he described the exaggerated taser effect that had been used. It wasn't enough to knock out the attempted intruder, but it had probably hurt like a bitch.

Steve could only chuckle helplessly as he heard Darcy in the background, demanding that her taser be upgraded to match Jarvis's defense protocols. His girl was amazing. He wasn't sure how he had been lucky enough to get her, but he treasured every moment.

Two days in, and Coulson's team was getting closer, but Steve just didn't have the patience for it anymore. He caught Clint's eye, and then Natasha's, and jerked his head toward the door. Their nods were almost imperceptible.

Clint departed first, hopping down from his perch and strolling out like a dark thundercloud. Natasha followed within minutes, silent and unnoticed by all except Coulson. The senior agent's eyes flicked to the door, up to Clint's empty perch, and then to Steve. He sighed softly, then turned back to his work.

Steve made his getaway moments later, and rendezvoused with his Avengers teammates outside the building. "Let's go," he said decisively.

"Where to, Cap?" Clint asked, removing his bow from the case he always carried with him, and slinging the quiver across his back.

Steve shrugged. "He'll find me. Let's take this someplace less populated." He turned to Natasha. "Can you do this?"

She flinched, eyes blinking. "I…I don't know."

"I will, Cap," Clint assured, expression stony. "He doesn't mean anything to me."

The look Natasha turned on him was pure relief that her partner would compensate for her weakness.

Minutes later, they were heading for a less populated area in an SUV that Clint commandeered. Steve felt bare without his shield, but it would have attracted too much attention if he had tried to grab it. Instead, he fidgeted in the back seat of the SUV, like an anxious child.

They didn't make it more than a mile. Steve saw the movement from the corner of his eye barely in time to brace himself as another SUV rammed them. The jolt traveled through his entire body as they slid sideways, Clint spewing curses as he tried to regain control. Then they hit the curb and their SUV flipped, still being pushed by the other vehicle.

Natasha had her guns in hand, firing through the window while hanging upside down from her seatbelt. She must have hit something vital on the other vehicle, because an explosion rocked theirs.

Steve released his seatbelt and dropped free, kicking out the door and rolling clear of the SUV. He popped to his feet, eyes sweeping the scene. The other SUV was in flames, smoke billowing out around it. A black clad form was emerging from the wreckage, clothes smoking. He ripped off the face mask and took a deep, shuddering breath, then straightened.

Steve blinked to clear smoke from his eyes, noting the gun cradled in the assassin's arms. "Stand down," he called. "We can help free you."

"I am free," the assassin responded, gun rising to point at Steve. "You are caged."

That voice…something about it was familiar. Steve blinked again, eyes still tearing from the smoke. In that moment, the Winter Soldier stepped clear of the wreckage, smoke parting, and Steve got his first look at the killer's face.

No.

It wasn't possible.

He must have hit his head when the SUV flipped.

"Bucky?"

The assassin paused, shook his head, and then snarled at Steve. "What?"

Steve felt like a dark hole had opened at his feet and he was falling, falling. "Bucky," he repeated in a weak exhale, eyes mapping the familiar features on the assassin. It wasn't just a similarity, the face was identical, but the expression was all wrong. The expression was cold, dead. Bucky had always been full of life. Even as he had dropped into an icy abyss over 70 years ago.

"You died," he stated, unable to move or think past this moment.

The assassin shook his head again, confusion rippling across that oh so familiar face. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You fell." Steve felt like a simpleton, but he couldn't seem to string more than two words together. Dimly, he realized he was in shock for the second time in his life. The first time had happened when Bucky died.

The assassin's eyes narrowed and he frowned. "Stop trying to escape your fate."

"It killed me," Steve admitted, tears blurring his vision. "You were my best friend." He had a sudden revelation. "You recognized the shield. The other night. When you attacked the office."

"Stop talking. It's time for you to die now."

He wilted. "I deserve it. I let you fall."

The assassin twitched, frowning again, blinking his eyes. "Stop talking."

"I don't know how you survived. I don't know how you look the same age as you did when you fell. But I'll find out. Bucky-"

"NO!" The Winter Soldier stepped back, shaking his head violently. The gun dipped toward the ground. "Stop talking!"

Steve advanced one step. "It was Zola. He was experimenting on you."

The man who might possibly be his best friend staggered back another step, face twisted in some kind of macabre mask of confusion, hatred, and fear. "Stop talking!" he almost shrieked. The gun came back up.

Steve nodded slowly. "Schmidt was trying to create the super soldier serum. But it requires a catalyst, and Zola didn't have the time to try that with you. Maybe falling from the train did it." He advanced another step.

"Cap?"

Clint and Natasha were behind him. Steve held up a closed fist for them to hold position. "Stand down," he ordered softly, eyes fixed on his best friend. It _was_ Bucky. It felt right. And that felt a bit like coming home, easing the ache of loneliness he'd been living with since waking up in the 21st century.

He reached out with one hand, palm up, in much the way he'd approach a feral dog. "Bucky," he repeated softly.

"Stay back!" the other man snarled. "Stop talking!"

Steve saw the trembling in Bucky's hands and arms. Was he remembering who he was? Why had he even forgotten?

Natasha's words came back to him: _A programmed killing machine. He's been conditioned to be an unreasoning killer._ Bucky had been overwritten, like a computer program. But as both Tony and Darcy told him, information in a computer that was overwritten or deleted could almost always be retrieved. Programs could be deleted or restored. _Bucky_ could be restored.

"We grew up together," he tried again. "You called me punk. I called you jerk."

His hair was so long, and it rippled as Bucky shook his head in denial. His eyes, the cold, dead eyes of a killing machine, were gone, leaving only confusion. "Stop talking!" he cried, face twisting with an internal struggle.

Steve took another step. "We only had each other. Well, you also had any of the ladies you could sweet talk. But in the end, it was just us."

"Stop!" His voice sounded broken now, and Steve supposed that was accurate. He was breaking the Winter Soldier, so that Bucky Barnes could be rebuilt.

"You followed me." Steve choked a little, remembering that moment when he first started believing in himself. When his best friend told him he'd follow that skinny guy from Brooklyn instead of Captain America. "You believed in me before I believed in myself."

The gun wavered, muzzle dipping to the ground. "That's…" he paused, lost, eyes blinking. "That's what family does. Believes in each other." Then his eyes rolled back into his head, and Bucky toppled back toward the burning vehicle.

Steve darted forward, catching the body of his best friend and pulling him away from the fire. He ripped the gun from Bucky's slack hands, sending it spinning across the road toward Clint and Natasha. Then he dropped to his knees, Bucky's head cradled in his arms, and cried, body shaking until it threatened to tear itself apart.

Suddenly, he didn't know what to do. He didn't know his purpose anymore. Everything had changed.

Natasha dropped to her knees beside him, one hand on Steve's arm, the other reaching out to push the hair back from Bucky's face. "Cap? I don't understand."

"It's Bucky," he choked out in a thick voice. "My best friend."

"The one who died?" Clint asked casually. The archer snorted. "Looks pretty good for a dead man. Fiesty, too."

That surprised a watery laugh from Steve's mouth. "Yeah."

"How did this happen?" Natasha asked.

Steve rocked the unconscious body. "I don't know. But I will find out."

He rose to his feet, Bucky held tight against him. In minutes, his entire life had been reordered, and nothing would ever be the same again.


	2. Chapter 2

"You have to sleep, Cap."

Steve blinked, turning away from the sad site in front of him, and stared down at Natasha. She looked almost as rough as he felt, with dark rings around her eyes. He was pretty sure she hadn't slept either since the Winter Soldier had been brought in.

"I slept for a long time," he told her. "Got more important things to do right now."

He turned back, staring in the observation window. His best friend, the one he thought had died over 70 years ago, was in there, strapped down to an observation table with metal bands. They'd tried regular restraints, but he tore through those quickly.

Bucky hadn't woken as quietly as he had shut down. He had already thrown several S.H.I.E.L.D agents and scientists into walls. Whatever brief moment that had allowed him to remember Steve was gone, but he hadn't returned to his Winter Soldier persona either. Right now he was a feral thing, unable to speak and lashing out at anyone who came near.

It made Steve sick to watch.

"Go home to Darcy," Natasha urged. "Take a night and forget about this."

He shook his head fiercely. "I can't. I left him once, assumed he was dead. He's my best friend. I should have gone back and looked for him."

Her hand on his arm did not bring any comfort. "Why would you have? You were in the middle of a war, Steve. Trying to stop a madman from destroying the world. Your best friend wouldn't have forgiven you if you'd stopped all that just to search for his body."

"But he didn't die!" Steve roared, fist punching down through the nearest console, sending sparks flying. "And every second since he fell, it's been like a knife inside my guts." He shook his head. "Look what happened to him. Because I left him."

"You know that's not how or why it happened. Don't do this to yourself, Steve."

He slumped forward, weight resting on his hands against the outside wall of Bucky's cell. Inside, his best friend's face was twisted in hatred and madness, snarling at those near him. The cybernetic arm was lashed down with no less than six metal restraints, and it was anyone's guess if they would hold. It was extraordinarily strong, he'd been told.

"Tell me more about him, what you know," he asked quietly.

She flinched a little. "I knew him as Yasha. He trained me."

She was very carefully not saying things, he noticed. "Trained you to do what?" Steve asked.

Natasha wilted a little bit. "To kill people. To use every weapon available to me against them. He was the best of the best of what we did."

"Did he have the arm…?"

"Yes. I never asked about it, and he never volunteered."

Still not saying things. "You loved him," Steve stated bluntly.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Love is for children. We were very close. He helped mold me into the Black Widow. We took comfort in each other, but it was not meant to last. He was my teacher, and I always deferred to him, until…something happened. He disappeared for several months. When he came back, Yasha was gone. He was the Winter Soldier. He was programmed to kill me, but I was able to incapacitate him. He was put him into cryostatis then, mostly to heal."

Steve's glance flicked down. Natasha was staring straight ahead, doing her own version of the emotionless operative. "You almost killed him," he guessed.

"I would have killed him," she corrected. "I tried to kill him. But, I could remember the time we spent together, and that compromised my effectiveness."

She sounded almost regretful that she had been unable to kill the Winter Soldier, that emotion had made her less of an effective killing machine, and Steve reflected that no matter what else, at least Bucky hadn't been raised that way.

"I'm sorry, Natasha. That you grew up that way."

She shrugged. "I don't know of any different way." She looked up at him. "The road to recovering your best friend will not be easy. The Red Room's conditioning is…very effective."

Steve swallowed hard. "But it can be done?"

"Of course."

They fell into silence, staring into the containment cell at the raging, crazed man inside. In the three days since Steve had first seen the face of his best friend, he had a little more hope. To have Bucky back…it was like regaining a part of himself that he had thought forever lost. Maybe Steve Rogers could finally feel whole once more.

In another two days, Bucky's rages passed, and he just laid on the observation table in silence. It was almost more painful to watch than the raging had been. The scientists, ringed by armed agents, released the restraints and lowered Bucky to the floor. The cell had been carefully prepared for this moment, with nothing in it that he could hurt himself or others with. After the table was cleared, it was unbolted and removed.

Steve made his first visit, hoping to gain a reaction from his best friend. He had angrily refused any guards, and entered the cell cautiously. Bucky was a silent form on the mattress in the corner.

"Bucky?" he asked softly.

There was no reaction, so he moved closer and dropped into a squat. "Bucky?"

His friend stared at the ceiling without blinking, giving no indication that he knew someone was with him. Steve sat down on the floor and just watched him. Hoping for a reaction of some type. But after another 15 minutes of no response, no reaction, Steve wilted and left the cell. It was too painful.

Natasha arrived to visit later that day. Bucky had not moved from the mattress in the corner since he'd been placed there, but when the redhead S.H.I.E.L.D agent entered his cell, he looked up at her. Steve felt a brief glimmer of hope, but his stomach plummeted toward the ground when Bucky launched himself at Natasha.

For a moment, they were almost beautiful to watch together, so fluid and lethal in their movements. Bucky knew Natasha's moves, even if his mind was chaotic right now, and he was easily able to anticipate what she was going to do in time to effectively counter it. The same held true for Natasha, who easily defended herself. It was the expression on Bucky's face that worried Steve the most. Not the emotionless mask of the Winter Soldier, or the confused look of the man who had been captured, but burgeoning rage. Steve made a hasty gesture to the security detail that was always standing by.

Several S.H.I.E.L.D agents entered the cell and shot Bucky with tasers. One probably wouldn't have been enough to put him down, but four effectively immobilized him, twitching, on the cell floor. Natasha's expression was grim as she emerged from the cell.

"That did not go well," she told Steve, smoothing her uniform. "Perhaps he holds a grudge from our last meeting before cryo?"

Steve blinked thoughtfully. "Maybe. Maybe we should try again tomorrow. Give him time to settle down."

He had already decided to not be involved in any attempts to restrain Bucky. He didn't want Bucky's shadowed mind to look at him that way. As an enforcer.

After three more disastrous attempts at visiting in the next few days, Natasha made the decision that she would not return. "I am not helping his recovery." She cocked her head to one side as she looked up at Steve. "You look terrible. Go home to Darcy."

He shook his head. "You know that I can't. I have to be here for him."

Steve was adamant about not leaving. He didn't want Bucky to be alone, even if there were walls and windows between them. He went into the cell every day, with mixed reactions from its occupant. Some days, Bucky didn't stir at all, or acknowledge his presence. One day, he cowered in the corner of his cell, arms over his head, making a keening, wounded animal noise. The worst day was the day Bucky stalked him.

Steve entered the cell, and there was a corresponding movement from its occupant, stealthily sliding a few steps backward. He was on high alert immediately, balance shifting to the balls of his feet, eyes glued to the shadowed features of his best friend. The long dark hair was hiding Bucky's face, but the movements of his body were those of a predator.

"I don't want to do this with you," Steve told him. "I'm not your enemy. I'm your best friend."

Bucky made a low sound, but it sounded like a sarcastic snort of derision. He slid a step to Steve's right, trying to circle behind him in the small space. Steve pivoted to keep him right in front, watching his movements, anticipating an attack, but it never came. Bucky couldn't gain an advantage, so there was no point to a frontal assault. Or, that's what Steve figured he was thinking.

It was exhausting, and Steve gave up after ten minutes of turning in a constant circle. He cautiously backed out of the cell, eyes never leaving the lethal form of his best friend.

"That was tense," a familiar and unwelcome voice sounded behind him when the cell door closed.

Steve closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, then turned smoothly and opened his eyes. "Stark."

The billionaire grinned cockily. "Capsicle. I'm hurt. I protected your girl, and didn't get a thank you. You didn't call, you didn't stop by, and here I find you cheating on her with a guy! Didn't know you rolled that way, Cap."

Steve hadn't had more than 30 minutes of sleep at a time in almost two weeks. "I'm not in the mood for this, Stark. Why are you here?"

Tony Stark grinned. "Got a text from Barton, said there was something here I needed to see. I'm trying to figure out why he wanted me to see you spinning in a circle in a cell with the crazy guy."

"That's not what he wanted you to see, Mr. Stark."

Tony Stark was annoying, volatile, and didn't interact well with others. Still, Steve actually felt sorry for him when the billionaire realized the depths of Fury's manipulations. His expression, that cocky mocking that was so annoying, froze and his eyes went blank. Then he smiled a hard, tight smile, and tipped his head toward Coulson.

"Agent. You look well for a dead man."

Coulson, having just entered the room, inclined his head. "Mr. Stark. I did die, but I didn't stay dead. Director Fury chose to keep that information to himself. Probably a wise decision on his part, since my survival was not guaranteed." Coulson's attention turned to Steve. "Captain. Has there been any progress?"

Steve shrugged. "He hasn't actively tried to kill me yet."

Coulson nodded. "It takes a long time to recover from the programming he's had. It's unfortunate that his reaction to Agent Romanoff has been so…volatile."

Steve nodded absently, but his attention was on Stark, who was standing still with his fists clenched. The billionaire wasn't taking Coulson's 'resurrection' very well.

"Fury still in the hospital?" he asked tightly.

Coulson's gaze was sharp. "Yes, Mr. Stark. The attack by the Winter Soldier nearly killed him."

Stark smiled that hard smile again, the one that didn't reach his eyes. "Probably a good thing. You should stop by and let Pepper know that you're alive, Agent. She cried."

Coulson flinched a little. "I will do that, Mr. Stark. I'm sorry."

"Me too."

Stark turned and didn't quite stomp out. Steve figured he'd worry about it later. Stark would get over it, eventually. Right now, Steve's priority had to be Bucky.

"It was best to get that out of the way," Coulson remarked absently. "Barton will be here shortly, Captain. He said he'd come to keep you company."

Steve's smile felt stretched a little thin. "I look forward to it. Listen, Agent Coulson, I know there have been a lot of bad feelings because we were kept in the dark about your survival, but I think everyone really is happy that you're here."

The other man's mouth quirked up in a grin. "Thank you Captain. It will take some time to repair relationships, but now that I'm 'alive' again, I'll be working on that when not working with my team."

Steve ran a hand through his hair. "They seem like a good bunch."

The smaller man nodded. "They are. Good luck with this, Captain. I know it means a lot to you to get your friend back."

Steve took the opportunity to take a nap. He wasn't sleeping well, haunted by images of Bucky as the Winter Soldier, or as the broken thing he'd become. His subconscious mind could only tolerate so much before it propelled him into waking, and he jerked alert, almost falling off the chair he'd been dozing on.

"Cap, go the hell home to Darcy."

Steve blinked and scrubbed at his eyes. "Barton. Why do people keep telling me that?"

The archer rolled his eyes. "Because you look like crap, and you're making everyone here a little nervous. And Darcy misses you."

That was low, even for Barton. Steve winced. "I have to be here for Bucky. Darcy will understand that."

Barton snorted. "Whatever, Cap. I brought beer." He held up two six packs, prompting a wry smile from Steve.

"I can't get drunk. The serum."

The archer grinned. "I didn't say I brought it for you, Cap."

He was willing to share anyhow, even though it didn't have the desired effect on Steve. Barton's presence was welcome after the stress of the day, and Steve relaxed a little.

"Thanks," he said honestly, as the archer prepared to leave. "I needed some company that wasn't stressful or invested in this."

Barton grinned. "What, Stark is stressful? I figured this was my way to apologize for that. Seriously though, Cap. Take some time and go home to Darcy."

"I'll take it under consideration. Thanks again."

He watched the archer depart, and settled back into a chair to try to nap again. Maybe tomorrow Bucky would be better. He'd take a night to go home when Bucky showed some signs of improvement.


End file.
